


If Love Is Fire, Then I Burn for You

by Rubytaire



Series: Burnt peaches [1]
Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:41:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23427148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubytaire/pseuds/Rubytaire
Summary: Eliot is alive. Now all Quentin needs to do is find a way to save him.He finds it in, of all places, a ceramic teddy bear.
Relationships: Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Series: Burnt peaches [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1685206
Comments: 13
Kudos: 92





	If Love Is Fire, Then I Burn for You

He finds it in, of all places, a ceramic teddy bear.

It's a particularly ugly specimen: all overly delicate lines and pastel colours, the type of flowery monstrosity found only in grandmothers' houses or show nurseries. Quentin had been surprised to find such a thing hiding amongst Marina's ornaments – it certainly hadn't matched with the rest of her classy and elegant decor – but had put it down to some strange pull of nostalgia and not given it a second thought again.

He'd forgotten the thing even existed until it became a victim of his frustrations at their lack of progress, sailing across the room to meet a grisly end against the wall. Any satisfaction he felt at the smashing of cheap ceramic was quickly lost to the bitter realisation that all he'd really done was give himself more work to do. It had been with dull, heavy footsteps that he'd moved to clean up the mess; he'd barely been paying attention as he reached down to gather the pink, white and blue shards. 

And then his fingers had brushed clumsily over something that was very much not ceramic.

The scroll is miniscule, no more than three inches tall. It looks like papyrus, the surface pocked and uneven, but there's also a faint waxy texture, as if someone once tried to protect it from the passage of time. The dark strokes of ink look mostly unfamiliar to him; it's not until his eyes catch on one particular phoneme that he realises that the language must be Akkadian. Which is in itself strange, considering that he's previously only seen Akkadian written using cuneiform.

He doesn't know much Akkadian. It doesn't often come up in spellwork, and the little that does tends to be rudimentary at best and dangerously primitive at worst. Quentin should just sweep this into the bin with the remnants of the ceramic horror that had been hiding it and go back to his books.

Except...it had been _hidden_. Marina had kept a truly awful piece of uncanny valley decor in her otherwise elegant apartment _just_ to hide this. It's got to be valuable. Or important. Or just... _useful_ in some way.

If only he could just _read_ it.

"Q? What are you doing?"

Julia. She must have heard the crash.

"I got a little angry. The bear paid the price."

"The...oh. That pink and blue monstrosity? I wouldn't worry about it. You did us all a favour. Even the bear is probably thanking you." She clatters down the stairs, furrowing her brow as she takes in Quentin's odd, hunched position. "Did you hurt yourself?"

Quentin swivels slightly, holding up the scroll for her to see.

"I found this inside the bear."

"Gimme." Throwing herself onto the couch, Julia makes grabby hands until Quentin brings the scroll over to her. She bends over it, frowning, lips moving silently as she reads it.

"Is this...Akkadian? Why would Marina bother hiding something like that?"

"Jules." A thin flicker of light sparks up in Quentin's tired, bruised soul. "What if...it's another insurance policy? Like the ambrosia?"

Julia shoots him a sharp look, though her hand is gentle as she squeezes his.

"Don't get your hopes up. Knowing that bitch it'll be something completely self-serving and cruel."

"What could be more self-serving than protecting herself from a god? Margo said it herself – Marina wanted to make sure she didn't die like her predecessor. Wouldn't she have used this already if it was something more immediate? I mean, why hide it?"

"I don't know...for a rainy day? Maybe she was going to sell it. Q, we don't even know what this spell does. Or if it's even a _spell_."

"Can you translate it?" Quentin leans forward, willing her to believe in him. If there's a chance...if there's even the slightest spark of hope that they can save Eliot...

Julia sighs and Quentin knows he's won.

"I can give it a go. But you'll need to distract the Monster when he reappears: you know he'll want to know what I'm doing."

Quentin flinches. Distracting the Monster is a job easier said than done, these days. Card tricks hold little appeal compared to blood and screaming, apparently. Quentin's mainly been using research as a reason to _not_ be responsible for entertaining the Monster: great for him, not so great for the citizens of New York.

But Eliot.

"I'm on it. Maybe we can, I don't know, go bowling, or something."

Julia smiles at him, wan and drawn. He wonders when the last time he saw her truly smile was. The staircase dance seems an eternity ago now.

"Just don't get your hopes up, hmm? For all we know, it's a spell to dye hair or something."

* * *

"It's not a spell to dye hair." Julia hisses at him a few days later.

Quentin scurries over to her immediately. The Monster has gone to see what koalas are like after seeing one on TV, so they have a few minutes of privacy. There's no telling how long the marsupials will be able to keep him entertained, though.

"What _is_ it for, then?" He asks. Julia shoves a piece of paper in his hand and he scans it, eyebrows lifting in astonishment.

"Spell to Trap a God. This is..." He looks up at her, an incredulous bark of laughter escaping from him. "Jules! This is what we've been searching for!"

For some reason, Julia doesn't share his happiness. If anything, she looks like Quentin's joy is hurting her.

"Q. Look at the end."

"The end?"

He turns the paper over, moving immediately to the final few lines of the spell.

"Whilst keeping the right hand in position three, cross feet and apply..." He frowns, turning the paper over again. "Where's the rest of it?"

"That's the problem. There wasn't any more. That's all there was on the scroll."

Quentin shakes his head, a dull pounding starting in his temples.

"No. No. We just have to, I don't know, find the rest of it. I mean, this is a fragment, right? There must be more out there somewhere. And-and-and there's no way that this is the only copy, not when it's such a powerful spell, that would just be silly, there's no way that any self-respecting Magician would just leave it all to..."

"Q. There's nothing else. Do you think it's taken me all this time just to translate that tiny piece? I've been looking. And there's nothing out there."

"You're wrong. We didn't know _this_ existed until a few days ago, so who's to say that the rest isn't hiding in some other ceramic creature, hmm? Maybe a cat, or-or-or a dog, or, I don't know, a goddamn cow! There's gotta be _something_."

"Q..."

"No! This is the closest we've come to getting that _thing_ out of Eliot and you're telling me it's a dead end? That we have _nothing_?" Quentin is suddenly aware of the way his chest is rising and falling rapidly, of how loudly his voice is reverberating in the spacious loft. From the way that Julia's eyes have softened, he is pretty sure that the burning sensation in his own eyes must be from tears.

God, he's a mess.

"I know he means a lot to you, Q..." Julia tries. Quentin snorts, turning away to scrub angrily at his eyes.

"He's been with you since Brakebills. I get it." Julia tries again. "He was there for you when I wasn't. He's your best friend and you've been through a lot together. But have you thought about what we do if...if there isn't a way to get the Monster out of him?"

" _No_." The word explodes out of him without his consent, sharp and jagged and furious. Julia flinches.

"Q..."

"It's _Eliot_."

"You keep saying that like it's an answer!" Julia protests. Q throws his hands up in the air, because it _is_. It's peaches, and plums, and kind eyes, and warm hands, and telling a miserable first year your most traumatic secrets just to make him feel better. It's forehead kisses, and lingering embraces, and raising a child together. It's blocking a lethal spell from a battle magician with your body and it's bickering over who used the last of the goat butter.

It's everything.

"It's Eliot." He repeats, quiet and firm. 

Julia sighs, pressing a hand to his shoulder.

"I just don't want you to build your hopes too high, that's all." She murmurs, every line on her face etched deep with worry. "I want to get him back – we all do – but you've got to prepare yourself for the chance that we can't find a way."

She leaves him then, perhaps sensing that any further conversation would just descend into shouting and screaming. Quentin looks down at the paper left in his hand, creasing it as he tightens his trembling grip. Maybe Julia couldn't find anything, but that doesn't mean it's over. The internet is a huge and varied place. Maybe he'll end up following a link that she missed somewhere.

He's not giving up.

* * *

A little under a week later, Quentin has found exactly nothing. He's made it through to Google search results page 76. He's rifled through every book in Marina's collection. He's even holed himself up in the Brakebills library multiple times, ignoring the wounded looks Julia gives him every time he steps out the door.

The only possible reference to a larger scroll existing also claimed that it was stored in the Library of Alexandria and everyone knows how that went down.

It's beyond a joke that the source of Eliot's salvation is here in his hands and he can't use it. It's like something Ember would have done: sown the seeds of hope only to rip the plants up as soon as they put down roots just for a laugh.

Quentin looks at the research materials strewn over his desk and wants to tear them all up. What's the point? He should have known he'd fail. He always fails when it matters most.

His eyes are burning again. He's not sure if it's tears or exhaustion this time.

There's a muffled pop and Quentin jumps as a hand lands on his shoulder.

"You seem sad. Would a koala help?"

Quentin blinks, turning to face the Monster. "Did you say...?"

He cuts himself off as the Monster suddenly deposits something grey and white into his arms. It latches onto him immediately and Quentin stares as he realises that it's real.

"Did you...steal a koala?" He asks faintly. He scans the Monster's face for blood and is immensely relieved to find no sign of it. Maybe the Monster managed to steal the koala without alerting anybody to it.

"You've been working very hard for me." The Monster says, ignoring Quentin's question and wandering closer to the desk. "I knew there was a reason I liked you."

He reaches for a book and Quentin tenses, waiting for the moment he reads the title and decides that he doesn't like Quentin after all.

"Maybe I should give you a present." The Monster muses, tapping the book's spine against his chin. He brightens as an idea comes to him, a broad smile stretching across Eliot's face. "Would you like a koala? You can't have that one, she's mine."

"No. I'm...I'm good. I'm not a huge koala fan, really."

"Really?" The Monster's eyes go wide and he drops the book to stare at Quentin. Quentin seizes the opportunity to distract him, swallowing hard.

"Yeah. I'm more of a fox..." He thinks of Alice and flinches internally. "I mean, I'm more of a cat person. They're just more...lively, I guess?"

"But koalas are very warm. They have big ears and big noses and they cuddle you." The Monster pouts, sounding just like the overgrown toddler he really is. He's surprisingly gentle as he retrieves the koala from Quentin though, resting its weight on his hip and stroking its fur slowly and carefully.

"Cats cuddle you too, though." Quentin points out. The Monster frowns.

"Not for long, though. They walk away and leave you and they don't let you be their friend! I don't like things that do that."

_Abandonment issues, check._

"Sometimes good things come to an end." Quentin tries. He chooses to ignore how hollow his words ring in the wake of his argument with Julia.

"They don't have to. The lady at the animal prison said that koalas were going to die out. So I'm going to work out how to save them." The Monster declares. Quentin huffs, slightly charmed despite himself.

"You...are?"

"I don't like the ending, so I'm changing it. Koalas are going to live forever." The Monster smiles, gliding out of the room – hopefully, to go and find some food before the poor koala starves to death. He doesn't think the Monster would respond too favourably to his new pet dying after all his talk of changing endings.

Quentin freezes. Changing endings.

What if he just...changes the ending? He's got at least half of the spell here. Who's to say he can't just...slip another spell or two in there? Maybe a simple containment spell will be enough once the original spell charges up the incantation.

Pulling his chair back under the desk, Quentin reaches for the book closest to him. Maybe there's still hope after all.

* * *

Checking back over the hodge-podge of spells that he has thrown together, Quentin spares a thought for first-year Alice and mentally apologises to her for his reaction to her frenzied attempt to save Charlie. Alice had spent months planning how to save her brother, using years of self-study to throw together an original spell.

Quentin is going to stake it all on a spell he created over two coffee-fuelled all-nighters.

Still, he has a good feeling about this spell. He's using the Akkadian spell as a base and has supplemented it with Vronsky's Entrapment Principle and Teimo's Sealing Sigil, all tied off with a variation of the Word as Bond charm that should (hopefully) translate the intentions tracker into physical containment. It's a strong spell, without any obvious gaps or holes in the circumstances.

He's still not telling Julia.

He can already see the wide, shocked gaze she would give him. Hear the imploring words she would throw at him, probably with Penny-23 looming over her shoulder and backing her up because he can't draw the line between this world's Julia and his.

And maybe she'd be right. Maybe Quentin's spell is a tangled knot that's going to blow up in his face and wipe him off the map like magic has done to so many Hedges before him.

But he has to try. Because the alternative – sitting back and doing nothing while the Monster merrily goes about building his body, waiting for Penny or one of the others to snap and finally find a way to kill the parasite, host be damned - is not worth thinking about.

It's Eliot. It's peaches and plums. It's everything.

A little risk is worth it.

The only problem is the amount of magic the spell will require. It needs the caster to channel huge amounts of energy just to charge it up, let alone hold the spell long enough for it to take effect. With the Library's siphon in effect, there's no way Quentin will be able to make it through the first few tuts, let alone the rest. There's not enough ambient in the world.

Which means that Quentin's first going to need to find a way of taking down the Library.

For a moment, he considers lying to Julia about the reason why. He could spin the whole thing as a way of ensuring they have enough juice to fight the Monster when it comes down to it; if he gets her on board, then Penny-23 and Kady are sure to follow. And then...

And then they can all merrily march off to their execution. There's a reason Fogg was so concerned that he cut the world's worst deal on their behalf.

Some days, Quentin misses the simple terror of the Beast and their fumbling attempts to retrieve the Leo Blade. At least then they had a weapon.

He pauses, considering. Then again...don't they have one now?

Swallowing hard, he tucks his notes into his pocket and slips his shoes on. He doesn't bother hiding the books littering his room; by the time Julia comes nosing, if she chooses, it will be too late anyway.

Still, she won't know where he's gone. Only what spell he's planning to cast. And the thought of her frantically searching for him sickens him. It's the work of a moment to scrawl a quick note: he doesn't labour over heartfelt outpourings of love, or muse over the origins of their friendship. This isn't a goodbye – she'd never forgive him for doing that in a letter. He simply writes down his plans and charms the paper to find her when the ambient in the room reaches a certain level.

If all goes well, that will be when the siphon is gone and magic is once again free.

Julia's door is shut as he makes his way down into the living room. He can hear low voices arguing, so he assumes Penny-23 is in there with her. Kady is off doing her own thing, as usual. That's alright.

They're not who he's looking for.

"Hey, uh, are you busy?" He asks, sticking his head around the doorframe of the room they designated as the Monster's in a futile attempt to make him leave his strange trophies and obsessions in one place.

The Monster is draped over the bed, feet pointed towards the ceiling and head dangling over the edge.

"I'm not busy. I'm booooooooored." He complains, moving his feet in a strange parody of cycling. "Everyone's busy with research and no one wants to play with me."

"I'll play with you." Quentin offers. He tries not to notice the pathetic bundle of white and grey fur in the corner – the Monster has clearly lost interest in his latest project, presumably after realising that saving the koalas would take more effort than simply killing a few key people.

The Monster brightens at Quentin's proposal, swinging himself into a sitting position and beaming at him.

"You will?"

"Uh huh."

"You _never_ have time to play with me anymore, Quentin! You always have your nose buried in some stupid book. This is very exciting. What game are we going to play?"

"A new game. An _exciting_ game. It's really, really fun. Except...there's one problem." Quentin smiles, laying out the bait. The Monster falls for it, perking up at the prospect of a new game only to wilt into a disappointed pout right on cue.

"What problem?"

"Well, this game needs lots of magic to work. And there isn't enough magic in the air anymore. So we can't play the game."

"That's not fair! Why would you tell me about a game we can't play?"

"Because it's such a fun game. And I really wanted to play it with you. I mean, I suppose we could...no. Never mind." Quentin hums, turning as if to go. The Monster scrambles off of the bed, rushing over to him.

"What? What?!"

"Well, I suppose we _could_ put magic back into the world. But we'd have to break the siphon first."

"The siphon?"

"It's a device the Library uses to control who gets to use magic. If we destroyed it, then we could play lots of new games. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

The Monster nods excitedly, eyes sparkling.

"Yes!"

"Should we go then?"

The words are barely out of Quentin's mouth before the Monster is grabbing his arm and they're gone.

* * *

Somehow, he hadn't prepared himself for the blood.

When he'd been planning this out and wondering if he was truly desperate enough to attempt weaponising the Monster, he'd known there would be a high body count. He'd prepared himself for the death toll by reminding himself of all the terrible things these people had done. He'd reflected on the totalitarian state they were forming and Kady's tears after Penny's death, as well as Alice's shaky smile when she explained that the Library had been keeping her prisoner. He'd thought he'd come to terms with the necessity of their deaths.

He hadn't realised quite how much blood would be involved.

Cringing back against a bookcase, Quentin shuts his eyes as a balding Librarian who looks more like a Chemistry teacher than an enforcer for a magical superpower falls in front of him in a spray of blood. A pretty young woman collapses to her knees beside him, clutching at her stomach and coughing up thick ropes of crimson that pool beneath her.

Down the aisle, two men throw battle magic towards the Monster, drawing his attention. Their spells barely make him stumble, doing little more than singeing his shirt; his retaliation cuts their throats with enough force to almost sever their heads.

"Oh, Jesus." Quentin moans, hoping against hope that any remaining Librarians on this floor are wise enough to run and hide. The Monster turns to him with a smile, ignoring Quentin's flinch as he reaches up to tenderly wipe blood off Quentin's cheek.

"You didn't tell me how much fun this part would be, Quentin. Where's the siphon?"

"I...I don't know." Quentin stammers out, swallowing as the Monster frowns in disappointment. "I just know that it's somewhere in the Library."

"No matter! I'll just ask her." The Monster chirps, toddling off to chase down a Librarian foolish enough to poke her head out of the stacks at that moment.

A truly disturbing amount of screaming later, the Monster is back.

"She says it's on the next floor up, in the middle. We have to look for a small waterfall." He sings, grabbing Quentin's arm and transporting them upwards.

They land right in front of the siphoned magic, the power emanating from the waterfall enough to send prickles radiating across Quentin's skin.

They also land right in the middle of a veritable army of Librarians who had clearly guessed where their path of destruction was leading.

"Mr Coldwater." A middle-aged Librarian steps forward, tilting his head in a genial fashion. "I think this has gone quite far enough, don't you?"

"Remove the siphon and we'll go." Quentin offers. The man laughs. Every inch of him screams mild-mannered administrator, no threat. Quentin somehow doubts he's as harmless as he appears.

"I think not. I'll give you and your friend until the count of three to step aside. One."

The Monster chuckles quietly. Quentin doesn't move.

"Two."

The man looks displeased, like he had expected Quentin to just fold under pressure and hand himself in. Quentin lifts his head and sets his jaw stubbornly.

"Three."

Pain blooms across his hip as a blast of battle magic catches him in the side. Quentin cries out, stumbling back against the magical water feature.

"I did warn y..." The man doesn't get any further as the Monster surges forward with a furious roar, sending him sailing through the air with a single gesture.

"No one touches Quentin!" He bellows. Quentin might have been touched, except for the, you know, months of physical and psychological torture he's been forced to endure.

"Everett!" A woman cries, running to where the man has crashed into a set of bookshelves, causing them to crumple and collapse under his weight.

All hell breaks loose.

The Monster is laughing uncontrollably, positively giddy as he takes down Librarian after Librarian. Most never get a shot in, their blasts harmlessly deflected off into the stacks. Those who aim true are rewarded with extra bloody deaths, their dying screams choked with blood as they attempt to vomit up their internal organs.

Quentin doesn't even rank as a threat compared to the one-man slaughterhouse tearing his way through the Library. He takes advantage of their distraction to examine the waterfall of magic, eyeing the way it falls out of a seemingly innocuous cabinet and into the pool below.

There's no way he can destroy the actual siphon – that's firmly hidden away in Castle Blackspire – but maybe the system will short-circuit without a place to send the magic.

Taking a deep breath, he claps his hands together and intertwines his thumbs and index fingers, drawing them apart sharply in an abrupt movement that causes the cabinet to start shaking as if caught in an earthquake. Anxious, he watches as the sides collapse outwards, sending the base plummeting into the pool of magic below. For a moment, there's nothing.

And then the shockwave hits.

The initial blast knocks him off his feet, slamming his head into the floor and leaving him dazed and winded. There's a shrill, high-pitched whine in his ears and Quentin shakes his head fruitlessly to clear it, watching dully as wave after blue wave ripples through the room above him.

Then suddenly his brain seems to reboot, waking up enough to realise exactly what he's seeing.

 _Magic. The magic is free_.

He struggles upright. The cabinet and pool have been completely destroyed, nothing more than a smouldering heap surrounded by teetering bookcases. As he watches, a single drop of blue appears out of nowhere, falling down only to dissipate into nothingness. Nothing follows.

In other circumstances, Quentin might have been concerned that he just wiped out magic for the entire universe _again_. But he can feel it over and under his skin, alive and free in a way that he hasn't felt in months. It's different to the prickles he felt earlier by the pool: that felt contained and acidic, as if one wrong move would vaporise him. This feels more like immersing yourself in a warm bath after years spent in the Arctic.

Quentin glances behind him. The shockwave took out the battle participants behind him as well, though they're beginning to groan and stir. The Monster throws his arms up in the air, laughing gleefully.

"You did it, Quentin! Now we can play the game!"

"What have you _done_?" A Librarian whispers in horror. The Monster whips his head around, glaring at her.

"He stopped you stealing all the magic so that we can't play games." A thundercloud crosses his face. "I don't like it when people stop me playing games."

He makes a sharp gesture and the woman lets out a horrible whining noise, shrinking in on herself and jerking in agony as seemingly every bone in her body breaks at once.

Somehow, Quentin hadn't expected the Monster to carry on killing after the siphon was broken. He sends a silent apology and limps into the bookshelves, putting as much distance between himself and the Monster as he can. He has no idea how long the remaining Librarians will be able to distract the Monster. He definitely has no desire to be within firing range once the Monster realises what is happening.

He comes to a stop a few aisles away, pulling the crumpled paper from his pocket and smoothing it out before carefully propping it up on a shelf in front of him. He doesn't really need it – he read through it countless times before coming, painstakingly scorching every syllable into his memory – but he's not prepared to leave anything to chance. Not with what's at stake.

The casting comes easily to him, spell fragments flying together in a frantic, chaotic mix that makes Quentin's breath catch and his legs tremble. He can feel it coming together, golden rings of light appearing and disappearing in front of him as he chants the verbal opening of the spell.

The screaming of Librarians suddenly stops. The Monster wails.

Quentin keeps casting, hands moving faster now. He's running out of time. It won't be long until the Monster comes looking for him.

"Quentin!"

It's not the Monster that finds him first, though.

"Coldwater, what the hell have you been up to?"

Julia and Penny-23. Guess they got his note.

He can't spare the time to respond to them, furiously curling and uncurling his fingers in the intricate tuts the spell demands. If he pauses, he'll have to start over, and the Monster will find them long before the spell can build up enough energy again. Everything will have been for nothing.

"We got your note – taking down the Library with the Monster? What were you _thinking_ , Q?" Julia demands. Quentin huffs, locking his elbows and dragging his hands upwards. The first part is done now; all that's left is the hook and lock sections.

"Where is he, anyway?" Penny asks.

"I don't feel so good, Quentin." They all jump as the Monster appears at the end of the aisle. His skin ( _Eliot's skin_ ) is pale and clammy. His hand ( _Eliot's hand_ ) shakes as it fumbles at a shelf for support. The gold rings that vanished earlier are now hovering over him, shrinking and expanding in an ever-shifting mass that's positively disorientating to look at.

The Monster bends over and retches, turning to look at Quentin with sad, betrayed eyes.

"You said we would have fun. This isn't fun."

Quentin grits his teeth, moving into the tuts that will draw the Monster out of Eliot's body. The Monster moans, crashing to his knees ( _Eliot's knees_ ) as he struggles against the oppressive weight of Quentin's spell. He raises a hand as if to cut Quentin's throat like he has done to so many others, but it's too late: he doubles over again and starts to cough up golden sparks.

"Q, your hands." Julia says urgently and Quentin looks down to see that they're beginning to blur, blue wisps of smoke starting to curl out of them. Strange. He can't feel it. Can't feel anything other than the rush of magic flooding through him, the oily feeling of the Monster inside Eliot as he reaches down and yanks at it.

The Monster whimpers, crumpling to the floor as he begins to convulse, glowing smoke dripping from his mouth.

"Q, stop. You have to stop now. Please." He ignores Julia's quietly panicked pleas, gritting his teeth in determination as the world starts to blur and warp and lose focus. His hands are shaking now, making it harder to form the final tuts, but he can't stop now. Not when he's so close.

The golden rings hum, melting together and shrinking down into a pulsing cylinder that floats in front of the Monster, a hungry void calling out for something to fill it. The Monster lets out a pitiful yowl, clawing weakly at the tiled floor.

"Stop!" Julia's crying now. He can hear it in her voice. He can't look, though. It's taking everything in him just to hold his hands steady.

"Look after Eliot for me." He grits out, eyes never fully leaving the Monster's convulsing form.

Then he performs the last two tuts and the world explodes.

**Author's Note:**

> After lurking in the fandom for a while, I have finally written something! Hooray! Hopefully everything makes sense - season four is the only season that I've only watched once. 
> 
> If anyone wants to see the true hideousness of Marina's ceramic bear, type 'ceramic teddy pastel rubens' into Google Images. Quentin really did do them all a favour.


End file.
